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The Blackened Yellow
Once an old, wise man walked up to me,
Giving me advice on life,
How to liberate myself from all the lies,
How to protect myself on what appears to be great,
He looked at me and pointed to the sun,
And asked me what color I see,
I replied,"Yellow,"
But all he could do was laugh at me.
He smiled and said to me,
"When you see things the way not meant to be,
The way God meant mortal eyes to see things not so dim,
The wise man knows,
He just wants things to appear to be brighter,
Because when I look at that sun,
I see not yellow but black."
Then the wise man sent me on my way,
And I walked away feeling a little different,
And I felt as if nothing would ever be the same.
I awoke the next day with a giant sigh,
The sky was quite gray and covered in a blanket of clouds,
Covering the world in its sadness and doom,
Surprisingly enough to my own expectations,
Not a single drop was rained that day,
I went to my sister,
I went to my friends,
They told me how clear the skys were,
And they told me it was summer's brightest day,
But happiness doesn't matter to me anymore,
My black is apparently yellow.
